


A Remembrance

by jagnikjen



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: Much gets a respite from the winter blahs.





	A Remembrance

Much usually hated this time of year.

Snow, slush, mud, and cold.

Everything remained dirty, and he always felt chilled.

Today, though, he was clean and warm. He was also not hungry. For anything.

He sighed, mostly content, but a smidge of sadness flavored his mood. From his position in the large bed, he surveyed the snug room in which he found himself. Several large fluffy pillows, the likes of which he'd never imagined, cradled him gently. The bed itself was clean and dry and comfortable, if a bit mussed. The unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, scent of sex lingered in the air.

The substantial remnants of a veritable feast littered the table pushed against the side wall.

Random rose petals littered the floor, left over from the immensely enjoyable bath he'd shared the night before.

Before the sex.

That's all it was, he knew. No sense attaching more importance to it than he should. A pleasant interlude that would sustain him for many months, if not years, to come. Hopefully, it would not be years until he could be with a woman again.

He glanced down at the woman lying next to him. He'd never think of her in quite the same way again. Dark hair spilled across her pillow, dark lashes fanned her pale cheeks. Slight redness marred her usually smooth milky skin from where his facial hair abraded her. Her lips were swollen, too, from all the kissing they'd done. She was an exceptional kisser.

The coarse sheet rode low on her stomach, her creamy breasts lush and ripe, topped with pretty pink buttons that matched the color of her rosy lips.

His manhood stirred at the sight of them and hardened at the memory of them bouncing and jiggling above him as she rode him to completion. That had been the second time they’d coupled.

The buds hardened and peaked as he watched. He swallowed against the want that flooded him.

His gaze was drawn to the now-smiling curve of her mouth. Her eyes popped open and she said, “Good morning.” Her sleep roughened voice sent shivers through him, the blue of her eyes warm and welcoming. The pink tip of her tongue darted across her lips.

Heat licked his face at the remembrance of her licking and suckling on his man's nipples. “G-good morning. Did you sleep well?” Much asked.

“Never better,” she said and stretched. Her gaze held his for a long moment, her smile fading and her eyes darkening. “Much...” she breathed softly, pulling him to her.

She welcomed his urgent kisses, his bold, eager caresses. Flames erupted along her flesh at the touch of his calloused hands upon her sensitive skin. The fire of need and longing and want consumed her.

With wanton abandon, she spread her legs as he took his place between them. She encouraged his tentative probes and gentle pumping with sweet, encouraging words. Sliding her legs along his and using her feet to pull him closer, deeper, she accepted his forceful thrusts with joyful cries.

Wave after wave of sensation rippled through her as they made love. She drifted on the rising tide of her release, rocking and swaying gently in the cradle of Much's arms.

Pretty words spilled from him, proclaiming her beauty and his feelings toward her. Words of delight and praise. Nonsensical words of ecstasy and enjoyment of the moment.

With a few last powerful thrusts, Much came. Her name on his lips prompted her own climax. She held him close for a few moments as they each regained their breath. Eventually, he slipped out of her and curled up behind her, pulling her close.

“You are beautiful,” he said, his voice slack with sleep. It didn’t take long for him to fall back to sleep. And that was all right. He deserved a bit more rest. But once he started snoring, she slid from the bed and dressed. A candle still burned, bathing the room in a pale glow, and she gazed upon him with a new appreciation and affection.

For all his bumbling and seeming simpleness and innocence, Much was a generous and talented lover. And quite good looking underneath his untidy, unkempt outlaw veneer. Last night after their bath, his hair shone golden in the firelight. She'd been surprised to find that all his hair was soft, despite his existence in the forest.

But back to the forest he would go. And she needed to return to her world as well. She picked up the long scarf they'd had so much fun with and a smile teased her lips. After a gentle kiss to Much's sleep-relaxed face, she slipped from the room and hurried away from the Trip.

~*~*~

Much whistled as he sauntered home. He'd never in his life made love so many times in such a short time. His body ached a bit, but definitely in a good way.

He left the Great North Road for the well-traveled path towards the camp. A moment later, Robin joined him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hello, my friend, how was your holiday?”

Much fought a smile, but lost. He nodded and said, “Fine.” Warmth filled him as he remembered just how fine it was.

Robin grinned and shook his head. “Fine, Much? You look like the cat that swallowed the chickadee. Surely, your time away from the gang was better than fine.”

“Well, yes, of course it was, but--”

“But a gentleman never kisses and tells,” Robin said with a wink.

“That's right. So if you don't mind...”

“No worries.”

Just then, the path narrowed and Robin allowed Much to take the lead.

“Hey, what's this...?” Robin asked. “This looks like Marian's scarf.”

Much turned to see Robin holding the long gossamer turquoise-colored scarf and rubbing the filmy fabric between his fingers.

“Why would I have Marian's scarf?” Much scoffed. “Surely, you don't think that the Lady Marian and I...”

Robin laughed. “No, 'course not. But where'd you get it?”

“I found it.” He'd found it in a heap on the pillow next to him.

“Where?”

The path widened out again, and the two men walked side by side once more.

“In Nottingham Town.” Not precise, but still the truth, not mentioning that a lady gave it to him.

“It's not even dirty.”

“Why would it be dirty?”

“You said you found it. I just assumed it was on the ground.”

Much cocked his head and back. “Oh, well, no, it wasn't on the ground.”

Robin looked at Much, a frown forming. “Did your doxy give it you, then? She must have stolen it.”

Much huffed. “I am quite sure she did no such thing. Perhaps, they both bought the same scarf.”

“Much, this is Marian's scarf. I recognize the embroidery on the ends. Marian did that herself.” To emphasize his point, he held the ends up for Much to see.

“Fine, then,” Much snapped, taking the scarf back. “The next time I see Lady Marian, I shall ask her about it.”

They arrived in camp, and Much shrugged his rucksack down off his shoulders.

“Ask her about what?” Marian asked.

Both men whirled around.

“Marian,” Robin exclaimed, a grin breaking across his face. “What are you doing here?” He hurried to her and swept her up in a hug.

“I was out for an afternoon ride and thought I'd stop by to say hello. Now, who wanted to ask me what?” She looked from Robin to Much and back.

“Me, my lady.” Much held up the scarf. “Is this your scarf?”

“And how did you come by it?” she asked, her brow arcing.

Heat seared his face. “It was a gift, of sorts.”

“Oh? A token of someone's esteem,” she said with a smile. A statement, not a question.

“I suppose,” he said. He wasn’t quite sure why the lady had left it behind, but he was pleased none-the-less. He should have hidden it at the bottom of his pack. “Robin seems to think the giver must have stolen it from you as he recognized your embroidery.”

She glanced at the colorful stitching on the ends of the scarf and nodded. “Actually, I gave it away,” she said, glancing at Robin. “Someone admired it, and I gave it to them thinking they would get considerably more enjoyment out of it than I. Was it a woman who gave it to you—dark hair and eyes?”

Much nodded. “Would you like your scarf back?”

“No, Much, you keep it. As a keepsake. To remember.”

“My lady, I don't think I'll ever forget.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written back in 2010. Just now realized it was never posted here at AO3, so...now it is.


End file.
